CHAPTER IX. A BIGHORN IN CAMP.
The day was spent in the river bottom, all the horses being allowed to feed at liberty, except one which was picketed. A few hours before sunset they packed up and travelled north for two or three hours stopping to camp for the night on the banks of a little stream which flowed into the Yellowstone River. This valley was narrow, and on either side high bad-land bluffs rose to the prairie above, which was dry and already brown, though mid-summer was not yet here. That night they had a long rest, making up then for the many hours of night travelling and day watching which they had undergone during the last week.
As usual, Hugh was the first to turn out of his blankets; that is to say, he was the first to awake and sit up, but before he had freed himself from the coverings, he saw across the narrow valley, and just below the top of the bluffs, something that made him call Jack sharply, but in a low tone of voice. Standing on the bare earth, and scarcely to be distinguished from it, except by the dark shadows which they cast, were three great mountain rams, splendid with their stout curling horns, looking curiously at the horses feeding below them.
"Wake up, son, quick!" said he, "there's your chance; you'll never get a better shot at sheep than that."
Awakened from his sound sleep, Jack hardly understood what was said, but the word, sheep, caught his ear, and he flew up suddenly to a sitting posture, like a Jack springing out of its box.
"Not too quick," said Hugh; "easy now; don't lose your head. Where's your gun and cartridges? You want to kill one of them rams, and not leave me to try to do it, just as they're jumping over the ridge. Take the middle one, he's the biggest, and shoot a little high on him; it's over a hundred yards, maybe a hundred and twenty-five; aim just above the point of his breast, and hold steady; if you make a line shot you're sure to get him."
The biggest ram was standing with his head toward them, and his hips a little higher than his shoulders. The other two stood quartering, one up and one down the valley, and any one of the three offered a fair shot for an ordinary rifleman. Jack drew his gun out from beneath his blankets, loaded it, and drawing up his knees, and resting his elbow on one of them, drew a careful bead at the point named by Hugh, and fired. At the report, the ram shot at gave a long bound down the hill, and then stood for an instant. The other two had each sprung into the air, and now all three turned and began to climb the hill, the two smaller ones at a gallop, the other walking.
"Shall I shoot again, Hugh?" said Jack, much excited.
Hugh still sat with his blankets around his legs, and a smile on his face, as he answered, "I don't believe I'd waste another cartridge; he'll do us for quite a ways yet."
As he spoke the last ram turned off to one side, and disappeared behind a little ridge on the shoulder of the bluff.
"Ah," said Jack, with a long sigh of contentment, "I thought I heard the bullet strike, but I wasn't dead sure."
"Well, I guess he's stopped over there somewhere: we surely would have seen him if he'd run off anywhere. What's that?" As Hugh spoke, Jack heard a clatter of stones, which to his ears sounded as if the whole face of the bluff were sliding down, and a moment later a cloud of dust, rising over the shoulder of the little ridge behind which the sheep had disappeared, showed that some commotion was taking place over there. A moment more and the great sheep appeared, slowly rolling over and over down the hill, his legs sticking up in the air at one moment, then his back and great horns showing, as he rolled on toward the valley.
"Ha!" said Hugh, "he's saving us quite a lot of packing. Now, the first thing we'll do is to go over there and butcher him, and bring the meat into camp; and then we'll eat breakfast."
They crossed the stream, which was only two or three inches deep, on a wide riffle, and were soon standing over the game. It was a magnificent animal; far handsomer, Jack thought, than any game he had as yet killed—a picture of strength, grace and beauty.
"Well," said Jack, "I did hope that maybe sometime during the year I'd get a chance to shoot a sheep, but I never expected to have it come so soon."
"And I expect you never thought a sheep would walk right into camp to be killed, either."
"No, I surely didn't think that."
"Now, I expect," said Hugh, "that you'd like to save this skin, and the head, too; it's a good head, and you may kill a whole lot of sheep before you'll ever see a better, and yet I don't like the idea of packing this head all over the country; I wonder if we couldn't cache it somewhere, and then try to come back here and get it when we're going south this fall."
"That would be good, but how would you ever find it again? Of course you couldn't be sure of coming right back to this place. You might have to travel up or down the Yellowstone a long way, hunting for the head."
"Don't you fret yourself about that, son; I know where this creek is just as well as you know where the corrals are, down at the ranch. Many a time I've camped here, and if we hang this head up in a tree somewhere near here, I can find it the darkest night that ever was; but what I'm thinking about is, that maybe we won't come back this way, and I don't want to travel a hundred miles just to get a sheep's head. Anyhow, I'll cut the skin of the neck low down, and we can make up our minds later what we'll do with the skull."
It did not take very long to butcher and cut up the sheep, but several trips had to be made before the meat and hide and head had been carried to the camp.
"Now," said Hugh, "I want you to make the fire and cook breakfast, and I'm going to dry some of this meat."
While Jack was at work getting breakfast, Hugh stretched two of the sling ropes double, between a tree and some tall bushes that grew near it, and then went to work at the carcass of the sheep, cutting the flesh from it in wide flakes, of which before long he had a considerable pile. These he hung over the sling ropes, much as a laundress would hang handkerchiefs on a clothes line, and before Jack had announced that breakfast was ready, one of the lines was covered with red meat, which was already beginning to turn brown, in the rays of the hot sun.
"Whew!" said Hugh, as he came up to the fire to eat his breakfast, "this is going to be a scorching hot day. I believe we'll stop here for a while, and give that meat a chance to dry, and the horses a chance to rest up, and feed good; they're beginning to get poor, and I don't wonder, for they haven't had much chance to eat for the last six days. Is that all the breakfast you've got?" he continued, looking at the frying-pan full of meat which Jack had cooked; "why, that ain't a marker; I could eat all that myself. You'll have to put on some more before long, if you've got anything like the appetite I've got."
Breakfast was a deliberate meal, and greatly enjoyed. Jack thought that the flesh of the mountain sheep was the best meat that he had ever eaten, and said so.
"It's good," said Hugh. "It's sure good; but don't make up your mind it's the best meat in the world till we get among the buffalo; then you'll be eating what the Pawnees call, real meat, and if you don't say that fat cow is the best meat in the world, I don't want a cent. Did you notice anything when we came down into the valley last night?"
"Yes, I saw where some cattle had been."
"Ah, that's what I meant; but them cattle ain't the white-horned spotted cattle that you're used to see; they're the cattle that belong here on these prairies."
"What, are those buffalo tracks?"
"That's what. They're old, but there's been buffalo here this spring, and I miss my guess if we don't see some of 'em before many days have passed."
"Well," said Jack, "I'm going over to take a look those tracks, so I'll know 'em again when I see 'em."
"Well," said Hugh, "you won't have to go across the creek, because there's plenty of 'em right down below here. The first thing I want you to do," and he put his hand in his pocket and drew out his pipe, "is to help me to slice up the rest of this meat, and put it up where it'll dry. With the sun as hot as it is to-day, it won't take long for it to get hard, and maybe toward night we can pack up and travel a few miles further on."
They now returned to the sheep's carcass, and before long almost the whole of it was hanging in the sun to dry. One of the hams and a sirloin were saved, to be eaten as fresh meat; the rest, when dry, would be packed in a sack and carried with them.
By the time they had completed their task it was mid-day, and the sun was blazing down with all its force into the little valley where the camp was.
"Whew!" said Hugh, "it's hot here, ain't it? Now let's go down to the creek and wash up, and then we'll fry some sheep meat, and set in the shade for an hour or two; and then, if you like, we'll take this sheep's head down below here, and maybe get it when we come back in the fall."
"All right," said Jack, "I'd like to put it up somewhere where it will be safe, because I want to take it home with me and have it mounted, and give it to mother. You see, I didn't take anything back with me last year, except those hides, and I'd like real well to be able to point to this head hanging in the house, and tell the fellows how I killed it."
"Well," said Hugh, "there's a safe place to put it, not more'n a mile away, and the only thing is not to forget to come this way when we're going south in the fall."
After a hearty meal, and an hour or two of rest in the shade, Hugh said, "Now, son, round up your horses and we'll start. Suppose you ride the black to-day, and leave Pawnee and the others here; I'll ride the bucking dun."
Jack walked out toward where the horses were standing, and, drawing his whistle from his pocket, blew a shrill blast. At once all the horses raised their heads and looked toward him, and in a moment Pawnee started, trotting across the flat, and all the other horses followed. Pawnee trotted straight up to Jack and reached out his nose toward him, and Jack, taking from his pocket a piece of bread, held it toward the horse, which nosed it for a moment and then took it between his lips and began to eat it. While he was doing this, Jack passed his right arm, which held the rope, around the horse's neck, knotted it through in a bowline, and then stepping quietly around among the other horses, passed the other end of the rope over the neck of the black, and tied that. Hugh, meanwhile, had walked around the horses and up to the bucking dun, on the other side, and attached his rope to its neck. Pawnee was then freed, and the two horses to be ridden were led over to where the saddles were.
Hugh was soon saddled up, but before he finished he noticed that Jack was having trouble. He had dropped the rope on the ground, and holding the bridle open, tried to pass it over the head of the black horse, but whenever he did this the horse threw his head up in the air so high that Jack could not reach it. Hugh watched the performance for a little while, and at last saw Jack throw his right arm around the horse's neck, near the head, and again try to put the bridle on, but again the horse raised its head. Jack held on, and was swung quite off his feet, and when the horse lowered its head again and Jack's feet touched the ground he seemed angry, and struck at the horse's nose with his right hand, but did not hit it, and then, very angrily, tried to kick the horse in the belly. The horse stepped a little to one side and Jack had kicked so hard that he sat down very suddenly in a bunch of sage brush.
"Hold on, son," said Hugh, "that ain't no way to manage that horse; you'll never do nothing with a horse by getting angry at him and hammering him; keep cool, and you can conquer most any horse; get mad, and swear and kick and throw clubs, and you will spoil the best horse that ever lived."
"Well, confound it," said Jack, "I can't bridle him and it would make a saint mad to have to do with such a fool of a horse."
"Well, I guess that's so, but even if the saint did get mad, he wouldn't get his horse bridled. I want you to have sense, and not make a fool of yourself, even if the horse is one. Throw the bridle down on the ground, now, and put the saddle on him."
Jack felt a good deal ashamed of what he had done, and he knew that what Hugh had said was true, that nothing could be gained by getting angry. He got his saddle, folded the blanket, and saddled the horse. "Now," directed Hugh, "throw the end of your rope across the saddle, so that it hangs down on the off side." Jack did so, and then Hugh called him around to that side of the horse.
"Now," said he, "tie your rope around his fetlock," and when this had been done, he added, "now, take up his foot and bend his knee, and take a couple of turns of your rope around the saddle horn, so's to hold his foot up; now, slip round on the other side and put the bridle on him, quietly; don't be in a hurry."
Jack took up the bridle and opened it, and was about to try to pass it over the horse's head, when Hugh said, "Push against his shoulder hard." Jack did so, and the horse lost its balance a little and awkwardly lifted his front foot and put it down again, so that it could stand steadily.
"Now," said Hugh, "put your bridle on quietly." The horse paid no attention to the bridle, opened his teeth when Jack pressed his jaw, and in a moment the bridle was on and the throat-latch buckled.
"Now, turn his foot loose," said Hugh, "and we'll go on up to that clump of trees." Hugh took the sheep's head in one hand, mounted and started on, and Jack followed. As they rode up the valley, side by side, Hugh said, "That horse you're riding isn't a bad horse, and he isn't rightly a fool horse, either, but your uncle lent him last fall to a cow-puncher that was working for the Bar X outfit, and had lost his horse and stopped with us for a few days. That fellow didn't have the sense that God gave him; he was always hammering his horse in some way or other. If the horse didn't lead good, he'd take a club and pound it over the head. He came pretty near spoiling two or three horses he rode while he was here. Finally, one day Jo found him in the corral, hammering one of them young horses that was rode last summer, with a club, and he took the club away from the fellow and began to hammer him. The fellow tried to draw his gun, but Jo was too quick for him, and clinched him, and got the gun and threw it out of the corral. Then they fought all over the place, until Rube and Mr. Sturgis heard 'em, and came out and stopped it. When your uncle heard what had happened, he told that cow-puncher to take his blankets and walk, and the last they see of him he was walking.
"When you tied up this horse's foot, and gave him a shove, so that he see he wasn't very steady on his legs, you gave him something to think about, and he forgot all about that he didn't want to be bridled, and was just thinking of keeping his right side up."
"Well, Hugh, it's a mighty good thing to know that about taking up a horse's leg. I was awful mad when I couldn't bridle that horse, and felt as if I'd like to kill him; then when I kicked at him and missed him, and sat down, I felt what a fool I'd been, and I was madder than ever."
"Well, it don't pay for a fellow to lose his head. A man wants to keep his wits about him all the time, and when you get mad and try to fight a horse, whether it's a bad horse or just a scared horse, you're kind o' losing the advantage that a man has over an animal, and putting yourself down on his level."
"That's so, isn't it?" said Jack, "I never thought of it just that way before."
"Yes, that is so; the only thing that a man has got that's much use to him is his sense; a buffalo is bigger and stronger; a deer is swifter; a wolf can crawl around better out of sight, and all them animals are better armed than a man is. It's his sense that gives a man the pull on all of 'em, and makes him able to creep up on 'em and kill 'em, if he wants to; makes him able to tame horses, and makes him smart enough to get up guns and gunpowder, and railways and all them things. So, whatever you do, son, you want to try to hang on to your sense, and never lose it even for a minute. A man that's got a level head, that isn't away up in the air one minute, and away down to the ground another, is the man that's going to come out ahead."
As Hugh finished speaking, they rounded a point of the bluffs and saw before them a group of half-a-dozen box-elder trees, with a few clumps of willows growing beneath them. "There," said Hugh, "if we put that skull up in that thickest box-elder tree it's pretty sure to stay there until we come back. Nothing will bother it except the magpies, and all they'll do will be to clean off the meat there is on it."
They stopped under the tree, and dismounted. Hugh pointed upward, and Jack, obeying his gesture, quickly scrambled up to the lowest of the branches. Hugh threw him the end of his rope, which Jack caught, and carrying it, climbed up in the thick foliage.
"Now," said Hugh, "you haul up the skull, and hang it by the horns, close to the trunk, across two branches. See that it is so firm that it can't blow down; or, if you can't make it firm, tie it with these buckskin strings that I'll put around the horn." Hugh took two long thongs of buckskin from his pocket, wound them around the horns, and then lifting the skull as high as he could, Jack slowly hauled it up to where he was.
"Here's a bully place," he said, "a branch to hold each horn, and a strong, dry stub coming out, that will support the chin."
"All right," said Hugh, "maybe you'd better tie it, anyhow, with them strings; then we'll be doubly sure that it will stay there."
After a few moments' work, Jack threw down the end of the lariat, and called to Hugh, "It's firm and steady as a rock, now, and I don't believe anything can move it."
"All right," said Hugh; "come on, we'll go back to camp and maybe move on a little further to-night."
A little later they were again in camp.
Two or three hours before sunset they packed up and set out again, travelling until nearly dark, when they came to a water course which was dry, except for an occasional hole where there was a little mud and stagnant water. Hugh paused and looked about, saying, "We've struck this creek a little too far down; there's a spring just a little above here—right good water." Turning, he rode up the stream and before long called back, "There's the place just ahead; we'll camp there to-night."
For the next two or three days they continued their journey. Jack now had plenty of chance to see buffalo tracks, for it was evident that not long before there had been plenty of buffalo on the prairie here.